


Brotherly Business

by Caliente (Bether)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Betaed, Bickering, Canon Compliant, Fights, Gen, Gift Fic, One Shot, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Past Relationship(s), Past Tense, Siblings, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-23
Updated: 2005-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bether/pseuds/Caliente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fred is being a twit. George is tired of it. They beat on each other and a good time is had by all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brotherly Business

**Author's Note:**

> A gift!fic for my friend Beaubier. The title shall be blamed on oldprydefan. Special thanks for Cadeous for helping me fix it up a bit. Set after the Weasley twins leave Hogwarts in the 5th book (and have set up shop) but before Book 7. Cheers!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Studios. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Please don't sue.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?"

George looked up from the display he was arranging with an annoyed look on his face. He loved his brother, he did, but if Fred didn't stop acting like a git in the next ten seconds, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands. "I'm arranging this display of Get Sick Quick potions," he replied tersely and in a manner completely unbefitting of a Weasley twin. Honestly, it was disgraceful. He just didn't care at that moment. "What does it _look_ like I'm doing?"

"It _looks_ like you're mixing products again." Fred was frowning, his hands on his hips in a way that reminded George all too much of their overbearing mother. Or, worse, that traitor Percy, and George didn't need that. "Honestly George, I've told you a thousand times—"

That was it. George had had enough. He'd taken all he could take and the gloves were coming off. "We're in this together you know," he interrupted in a sharp tone. "Harry gave that money to _us_ and _we_ will either succeed or fail. _Together._ You are _not_ the boss and this is not _your_ shop. Not alone. We're _partners_ and this is _our_ shop." He gestured to the banner above the counter for good measure. "Get the picture here, Fred Gideon?"

Fred looked furious now and it was definitely all Mum. One hundred percent. Disturbing, really. (Or it would've been if it were anybody else.) It only served to make George more irritated, though. "I think it's _you_ that isn't getting the picture, George Fabian," Fred snapped, closing the distance between them so he was right in George's face. "We _can't_ fail. What else would we do? Go home? Go back to Hogwarts? We have _no_ options. We're stuffed if this doesn't work."

"Ah, but it will!" George declared, a bright smile on his face even though Fred was still a prat and he was still annoyed. "I mean, c'mon. How could it not?" The frustration on Fred's face was still apparent but it was nowhere near the fury that'd been there moments before. "Do you remember the business we raked in at Hogwarts? And that was when we had to dedicate far too much of our time to our _studies_." He said the last word with all the disdain the memories it invoked deserved. Horrible, they were.

Fred sighed in a very melancholic way. Far too serious for the likes of George… or Fred, usually. "That was child's play and you know it," he grumbled, thrusting his hands in his pockets and turning away. Great, now he was acting sullen like Ron. Why couldn't he just act like the twin George knew, loved and occasionally physically harmed? "Sometimes, I just wish…" He shook his head as he began fumbling with the next display haphazardly.

Suddenly, George knew exactly what the problem was. Didn't have a clue how to solve it but he figured they could work on that later. At least he knew why Fred was acting so un-twin-like. "Look," and he did turn to look at George, eyes clouded with things neither of them really wanted to discuss but, apparently, were going to anyway, "you'll get her back, mate."

That's when it happened. Something snapped inside Fred and his face turned hard in a very Percy way. Mayday, mayday! They were definitely going down here. "How do you know?" he asked coldly, eyes narrowed. "You-you don't understand! You and Alicia were never like us. You never— it wasn't…" He shook his head almost violently, accidentally knocking over a few of the chocolate frogs they'd tampered with. Diuretics really were wondrous things. "Just sod off."

"Oi, why don't you get bent?" George replied in kind, ready for his twin to snap out of this channeling frenzy and return to his usual self. "It's not my fault that she—"

"Stop."

"—decided to call it quits. I know you don't want to hear it but—"

"Don't."

"—maybe she was right. I mean, even Lee said that Roger was—"

"Shut up."

"—good for her and, honestly, don't you want her to be happy?"

That was the end. George knew it the same instant Fred did. One moment, they were standing by their respective displays, arguing with overzealous gesticulations, and the next Fred was furiously lunging at George. They became a pile of battling limbs, Fred flailing as he shot off wild punches that George was mostly able to dodge. They wrestled on the ground a bit, knocking over several displays in the process. The only sounds heard, besides the clatter caused by their destruction, were low grunts and groans.

Eventually the more level-headed George was able to get the upper hand, flipping Fred onto his stomach and sitting on his back. Grasping Fred's hands tightly above his head, he managed to resist the urge to take advantage of his brother's prone position with some devious revenge. Wasn't Fred's fault he was being a right fool over some girl. (Well it was but chicks, you know?) "Look," he growled into Fred's ear, giving him a wet-willy for good measure, "I realize you're hurting, so I'm going to give you a by—this time. But you've got to listen to me."

Fred tried his best to wriggle out of George's grasp but it was futile—they were too evenly matched and he had already lost any advantage he might've had. "Fine," he spat in return. "But _I_ would just like to point out that Davies is a prick and a half. You know as well as I that he's dated half the student body, maybe more, and who _knows_ what his deal was with our future sister-in-law." He paused before grumbling, "He's not that great at quidditch, either."

"Points taken," George conceded, breathing beginning to return to normal. "Now hear mine. _You_ ," he poked his brother in the side, "are being a complete arse. If you're not moping like Ron, you're bossy like Mum or a jerk like Percy." Fred growled so George kneed him in the back. "Don't deny it, you know I'm right. Now, I realize you're still broken up over Angelina, so I've held my tongue. But enough is enough! Get over it! You're miserable to work with, to live with—everything. You're being a right git."

Finally gathering the strength needed, Fred bucked his brother off his back and scampered into a standing position. George watched him warily, preparing in case he jumped him again. (Neither of them were bleeding, so it wasn't quite a proper fight. _Yet_.) They shared a heated glared until Fred sighed again. That was two. And two was two too many. "You're right," he agreed finally, obviously displeased with being forced to admit it. George tried not to gloat. Much. "And I'm… you know." George nodded because he did and Fred attempted a smile that looked more like a grimace than anything else. "It's hard, you know?"

Leaning against the counter, Fred ran a hand through his long red hair and George momentarily considered cutting his own. Then he vetoed that idea. Too much work to cut it short, especially if he was meant to be gelling it like all those Yankie blokes. Bugger that.

"I guess, at some point, I took for granted the idea that she was always going to be there," he continued, glaring at his slightly distracted brother. "That she'd always be with me. I have to get her back, mate; I _have_ to." He sounded determined enough but who knew how long that'd last?

George did what he always did in situations such as these: he smacked his brother in the back of the head. "Then stop being an idiot, you idiot!" he scolded. "Do you remember when we were first years?" Fred nodded sullenly, rubbing the back of his head as he glared at George more. George made a mental note to lock his bedroom door tonight. And booby-trap it, too, just in case. "You told me you were going to marry Madame Rosmerta."

Letting out a noise of objection, Fred scowled. "I was only a kid!"

"You fancied her for three years!" George rebuked, matching his twin's tone and posture perfectly. Some days, it really was eerie just how similar they looked. Had to remember to freak out Mum again with that one sometime soon. "Up until you fell off your broom and Angelina, one of the new seekers, came to tend to you. But even that wasn't a constant. If I recall there was Marietta, that Slytherin girl, Fiona, Katie, that Muggle from town a few summers ago, La—"

Slapping his hands over George's mouth, Fred rolled his eyes. "I think you made your point. But Angelina was different and you know it." He pinched his brother's nose tightly. "Besides I don't have to explain myself, least of all to _you_." They wore matching indignant glares for a good long time until George decided he'd had enough and bit his brother's hand. "You tosser! That hurt!" Fred cried angrily. They shoved each other around a bit more but neither of them was feeling particularly violent at that moment. More disgruntled than anything else.

It took them a few minutes to settle but soon they were found sitting on the cold stone floor sharing a package of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "I do get it," George said finally, carefully selecting a modest pinkish colored bean. Ah, good—strawberry. "I know you miss her. But you've got to get a grip. Either she'll wise up or you'll find someone new. _However_ , making me miserable in the meantime is not going to help your case." He looked at his brother and smirked slightly. "And, hey, if you're nice to me I can get Alicia to introduce you to her Spanish cousin…"

Fred slapped his shoulder but he was laughing. _Finally_. "Oh, shut up," he grumbled halfheartedly. He stood up and offered his hand to his brother. "C'mon, let's get this place cleaned up already. Mum would throw a fit if she saw it like this." George looked at Fred like he'd grown a second head and he punched his arm none too lightly. "Not to mention the Leaky Cauldron will be filled with the usual daft crazies if we stop in too late."

He had a point there because, fun as the crazies were, they had a tendency to put a damper on a pint. So, George did the only thing he could in that position. He unloaded the remaining beans into his mouth all at once (usually a mistake but, eh, better than letting them waste) and took his brother's hand. An electric volt ran through his body and George yelped, releasing his brother's hand and falling back to the ground. "Ow!" He rubbed his hand gingery. "What the bloody hell was that?" It sounded aggravated but there was a mischievous glint in his eye as he asked.

Smirking, Fred slid the buzzer off his hand and held it up for George to see. "Muggle gag toy," he replied, obviously quite pleased with himself. "Runs on those battery things Dad's always raving about like a loon. It wouldn't work in Hogwarts," which was where the majority of their clientele came from for obvious reasons, "but I thought we might be able to reverse engineer it and rework it with magic."

Just the idea had matching wicked grins on their faces. George smiled just a little bit wider as he got up without Fred's _help_. His twin was back and they were in business. Even with the big baddie himself looming on the horizon, life at the Weezes was good.


End file.
